


And they lived bantering ever after

by old fics (Lothiriel84)



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 14:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/old%20fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shots about Jane and Lisbon as a married couple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Playing cat and mouse

At first he'd done it just in order to humor her.

Teresa Lisbon didn't do unprofessional. And to her, any public display of affection was the most unprofessional thing of all.

So he had decided to surprise her and never act as her husband on their job. Since she had expected him to continuously embarrass her, he actually enjoyed very much disappointing her.

He was a bit of a contrary sometimes. Besides, it was fun to see the puzzled glances she cast at him from time to time.

Then he quite got used to it as a matter of fact. He loved calling her Lisbon when they were at work, leaving her first name to be whispered fondly in her ear as soon as they went back home.

They were not only husband and wife, but also friends and colleagues. It was kind of odd, but it essentially worked.

No one – except for the members of their team, who obviously knew it – would ever guess they were actually a married couple.

That's why Lisbon received a somewhat extraordinary invitation from one of the suspects in their latest murder investigation.

The man was much of an arrogant womanizer, and his open attempts at flirting with Teresa had had Jane highly amused. At the end of the interview, he came up with something like: "May I ask you what are you doing tonight, babe?"

Jane nearly chuckled at Teresa's shocked expression. She was probably wondering if she could actually arrest him for harassment or something like that.

Then, all of a sudden, a mischievous glint showed in her eyes. "I'm awfully sorry, Mr. Hale, but I don't think that my husband would allow me to have dinner with you – or whatever else."

The guy decided to take this as a sort of encouragement. "Well, he doesn't need to know about that, I suppose."

"Really?"

The little minx was clearly enjoying her little game of cat and mouse. Jane actually pitied the man – though it would be absolutely funny to see him looking definitely crestfallen when Teresa would be done with him.

"Really. I'm sure your colleague here will be discreet, correct?"

Jane offered him one of his dazzling grins. "Oh, you can count on me for that."

A dangerous smile appeared on Teresa's lips as she suddenly turned towards him. "So you're okay with me dining out tonight, honey?"

Wow, that was low. Jane had to admit that the pupil was beginning to outdo her master.

He tilted his head to one side – thoroughly pleased to notice the abashed look on Mr. Hale's face.

"Let me see… I was actually planning to spend the evening with you, darling – but if you don't feel like it…"

Teresa quickly shook her head. "I guess I'll just stay home then."

The guy desperately struggled to recover – even apologize, maybe. They didn't give him the time to do either of those things, and just walked out of the door.

She was still giggling when they reached his car.

"You shouldn't mess with murder suspects, _honey_.", he remarked cheerfully as he switched the ignition on.

"His face was priceless anyway."

"Yes, it was. You were great, I have to say – learned from the best, after all."

"Always so modest, aren't you?"

"Meh."

"Are you going to take me out to dinner tonight, Patrick?"

"I'd rather spend the evening with you on our couch. Hope that doesn't sound too disappointing after Mr. Hale's flattering offer."

She pretended to think about it for a while. "Well, I might even reconsider my previous decision..."

"Don't push your luck, Teresa.", he warned her lightly – a moment before she pinched his arm by way of showing her affection.


	2. A single red rose

Everyone in the office simply couldn't take their eyes off that magnificent – and rather bulky – bouquet of red roses strategically positioned on the left corner of Van Pelt's desk.

Rigsby was actually pouting as a matter of fact. He was probably trying to decide whether he should feel jealous about his former girlfriend's secret admirer.

"Why a dozen identical roses? Seems a bit redundant, don't you think?"

Van Pelt took a good look at the man sitting on the brown leather couch – currently performing his customary drinking tea ritual.

"People usually regard a dozen red roses as a declaration of love, you know."

"I know _that_.", Jane retorted dryly. "What I meant is that a single red rose would suffice for the purpose."  
"So the man who buys it can save some money? How romantic…"

"I wasn't thinking about money. I just don't get why a dozen roses – or even one thousand, for that matter – should be better than a single one."

"He's hopeless, Grace. Arguing with him isn't worth it, I can assure you."

Jane smirked at his lovely wife – who had just entered the bullpen nursing a mug of freshly made coffee.

"I was simply pointing out the fact that a bouquet of identical flowers seems more of an insult to women's intelligence rather than a romantic message."

"Really?"

"I'm being serious. It doesn't take twelve flowers to make a woman understand your feelings towards her."

"Well, I have some news for you, Jane. Any sensible woman would choose a dozen roses above a single one."

"I'm pretty sure I can change your mind on that subject, _Lisbon_."

"That'd be kind of pointless, I warn you."

"Wanna bet?"

Sparkling green eyes met challenging blue ones. "Okay. What's the betting?"

"If I lose, I'll give up tea for a month. On the other hand, if I win… you'll bring me breakfast in bed every morning for a month as well."

"Deal."

As she strode towards her office she noticed Van Pelt biting her lip in order to hide an amused smile.

Poor deluded man – how was he going to survive a whole month without his beloved tea?

...

That evening Jane went straight to bed after dinner. He said he felt sleepy, and Teresa didn't push – though she was sure he was up to something.

She stayed up late to watch a game of hockey. When she finally switched off the TV and went upstairs to the bedroom, she found her husband actually asleep, and a single red rose waiting for her on her pillow.

Tucked under the rose there was a folded note written in Jane's flowing handwriting.

_My dearest Teresa,_

_You know why I'd never give you a dozen red roses?_

_I'm sure you've read The Little Prince at some point during your childhood. The golden-haired boy was in love with a single rose. His rose._

_He didn't care for other roses. They weren't his own, you know?_

_You're my lovely little rose. How could I give you a bunch of meaningless flowers?_

_A single, perfect rose is what you'd deserve. I'm afraid that the flower shop a couple of blocks away from the CBI didn't exactly own one._

_So here you are. Your rose isn't perfect, but just pretend that it is. It stands for you, the beautiful red rose to her little prince._

_You're much more beautiful than a rose anyway._

_Love._

_Patrick_

She brushed away a betraying tear that was lingering at the corner of her eye.

Damn the man and his silver tongue.

Now she just hoped she'd be able to cook scrambled eggs just as he liked them tomorrow morning.


	3. Cinderella

"Where are my shoes?"

Teresa bit her lip and just pretended she didn't hear him. This was going to be _so_ fun…

A moment later Jane entered the kitchen – fully dressed in his usual three-piece suit, yet with no shoes on.

"Teresa, honey, did you happen to see my shoes? I can't find them anywhere."

"Nope. No shoes here, I'm sorry."

Suddenly he caught the hint of a smirk flashing across her face.

"You hid them", he said accusingly.

"Come on, Patrick…"

"That's cruel, woman. How can I go to work without my shoes?"

"Let me see… you could always wear your slippers."

"I'd never do that", he countered – clearly horrified at the prospect.

She shrugged. "Then you'll have to take the day off, I guess."

"I'm going to call Bertram. Tell him that my vicious wife kidnapped my shoes and is currently holding them hostages."

Teresa couldn't help laughing heartily. "Go ahead and call him – I dare you."

"Please, darling. I'm really fond of those shoes."

"Cinderella's lost both of her glass slippers this time", she teased him lightly. "Well, if you wait long enough, the prince is going to find you and give them back to you."

"You're really heartless, you know?"

"I know. And I have some bad news for you. Your shoes are probably in some dump by now."

"You didn't…"

"I _did_. Your shoes were at least ten years old – and they looked worn-out enough. It's high time for you to get a brand new pair of shoes."

"I might want to get a divorce, as a matter of fact."

The grimace he made was so comic that she burst out laughing again.

"You insufferable bore", she said as she shoved into his hands the box she had previously hidden under the kitchen sink. "Here you are. Try them on."

"I don't want a new pair of shoes", he whined. "I want my old ones back."

"Do I have to go and fetch my gun?"

He muttered something about bossy and merciless women before finally opening the box.

A broad grin spread over his face then.

"They're exactly like my old ones."

"Don't I know you well, you overgrown schoolboy? I had to search high and low for that horrible-looking shoes, by the way."

"Thank you, sweetheart."

He dropped the box on a chair, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her for a kiss.

"You'd better put those shoes on, or else we'll be late", she murmured against his lips.

"Don't worry, my Prince Charming. Our coach is waiting just outside the door."

"Let's hope it's not going to turn into a pumpkin along the way."

"Not my faithful Citroën."

"You're right", she acknowledged with a smirk. "It'd probably fall apart instead."

"Don't you dare to insult my car, woman", he growled into her ear a moment before he started dropping kisses along her neck.

Looked like Cinderella and the prince were going to be late for the ball after all…


	4. Closed case strawberries

"I'm actually bored of closed case pizza. Why don't we try something else?"

The four other people in the room simply gaped at him. Even Jane looked rather taken aback by Rigsby's unexpected remark.

"Well, what's wrong with you?", the man added nervously as the astonished silence seemed to last indefinitely.

"Oh, nothing much, Rigsby", Jane offered cheerfully. "We were just wondering if the end of the world is finally coming, or something like that."

The taller agent pouted slightly. "What do you mean?"

"You usually _love_ closed case pizza", Cho delivered in his matter-of-fact tone.

"I never said I don't like it anymore. I just feel like having something else for a change – such as Mexican food, Thai, or whatever."

Van Pelt frowned. "Case-closed pizza is much of a tradition in our team. Are we really going to break it?"

"Okay, forget that I ever spoke", was Rigsby's somewhat sulky reply. He'd still avoid arguing with Grace if he could help it.

Lisbon decided to intervene at that point. "I think it'd be nice if we ordered something different for once. We could set up a new tradition, you know."

"That sounds great", Jane promptly agreed. "I'm going to provide the food. Don't move, I'll be back soon."

"Wait a moment", Rigsby interjected worriedly, fearing that the man was up to some kind of mischief – as was his wont.

Jane stepped out of the door before anyone could stop him. His colleagues wisely shook their heads and went back to their glasses of lemonade.

...

"Here you are!"

They stared at the bag that Jane had put on Van Pelt's desk. He had probably ransacked a greengrocer's or something.

There was almost every type of fruit one could think about – orange, apple, kiwi, papaya, banana, mango. And of course a basket full of delicious-looking strawberries.

The look of disappointment on Rigsby's face was absolutely priceless. It had the others in fits of laughter – and they nearly forgot about their dinner as a matter of fact.

Lisbon finally managed to speak despite the hiccups that threatened to choke her. "Fair enough, Patrick. Bring out our dinner – the real one this time."

"What are you talking about?", he countered, feigning surprise. "This _is_ our dinner. Fresh fruit is both refreshing and healthy – what else should you ask for?"

Cho and Van Pelt simply looked at him in disbelief.

"The food, Jane. Bring it in."

Lisbon's insistence finally won the day.

"You're such a spoilsport, woman", her husband complained as he fetched the other bag he had left just outside the door.

Rigsby's face lit up all of a sudden. "Is that Chinese food?"

"Korean. I thought that Cho would appreciate it."

"Sounds good", the Asian agent agreed. "Much better than vegetables anyway."

Now it was Lisbon's turn to sigh. "I guess that Jane and I are going to eat fruit salad for the whole week, aren't we?"

"Look on the bright sight of it, darling. Those strawberries are absolutely the best I've ever tasted in months."

"All right. Then I'll eat them and leave you the other stuff."

"Don't you remember what they say? _A apple a day keeps the doctor away_."

He ducked quickly enough and the aforementioned fruit missed his head by a mere inch.


	5. Blue-eyed Persian

As she entered Lisbon's office, Van Pelt threw a quick glance at Jane – who was currently dozing on the couch.

"Is he always sleeping even at home, boss?"

Lisbon smirked at the younger agent's somewhat pert question. "Yeah, most of the time. It's pretty much like having a cat, you know."

"I've heard you", the man warned them lightly without even opening his eyes.

"So what? It's the truth anyway."

"Hmm. I might provide Van Pelt with a few examples of certain other activities I do at home…"

"Just shut up. We both know you wouldn't dare."

"That's because I don't like the prospect of you wielding a gun at me."

"Correct answer. Now go back to sleep. There are people here who are trying to do their job."

"Meh."

It wasn't until much later – when everybody else had already gone home – that husband and wife picked up on their previous conversation.

"A cat? Really?"

She gazed at him over the stack of paperwork that was filling her desk.

"Go ahead and admit it, Patrick. You spend the best part of your days dozing on the couch which is nearest at hand. All that you expect from me is providing you with a cup of tea from time to time – instead of the classic saucer of milk."

"Well, if I'm your cat… why don't you come here and give me a stroke? I might even purr if you like."

"We're at the office. No funny business, we've already agreed on that."

"The bullpen is absolutely empty. No one is ever going to know."

"Bite me."

He frowned. "Cats usually don't bite – though their nails can give you quite some scratches."

"You're hopeless. I don't know why I bother arguing with you."

The silence that followed didn't last very long.

"By the way, I agree with you on one thing. Cats are cunning animals. I may actually resemble them as a matter of fact."

"Yeah. And they're definitely sly. Not to mention the fact that they never do what they are told."

"Those are just technicalities."

"Sure."

Jane stared at the ceiling for a couple of minutes. "Teresa?"

"Can't you leave me alone for a while? I want to fill in another couple of reports before finally going home."

"Just one question. Please." He almost mewed the last word.

Lisbon gave in with a sigh. "Okay. What do you want to ask?"

"If I was a cat… which breed would I be?"

She bit her lip. What a ridiculous question… that was typical of Jane of course.

"Don't know. A Persian, maybe. Now let me do my work."

Some ten minutes later she felt – rather than saw – her husband approaching her desk, sitting down on the floor and placing his head on her lap.

She couldn't help smiling and gently stroking his curls.

To be honest, Jane was definitely better than a cat. Even if she wasn't going to admit it any time soon…


End file.
